


Aversion

by miera



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-05
Updated: 2010-08-05
Packaged: 2017-10-10 23:16:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miera/pseuds/miera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angst. Not even a Vulcan could go through that recreation of Night of the Living Dead and not have some issues. Malcolm's no exception. (10/10/2003)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aversion

The lights were flashing horribly, enough to induce a seizure. The deck plating shook under his feet, pitching him off balance and towards...them.

In the flickers of light they looked like they were in stop motion. Vulcan bodies, faces disfigured and blank except for blood lust, lurching towards him. He was surrounded, and alone. He tried to struggle, but his arms were weighted down by the press of bodies. He felt himself be grabbed and he began to flail helplessly against the pressure.

T'Pol was in front of him suddenly, a viciousness Malcolm never could have suspected her of plain in her eyes. She raised a knife and he saw as if in slow motion her arm thrust out, felt the knife crossing his throat, parting his skin—

"Mal, WAKE UP!"

Malcolm drew a shuddering breath and opened his eyes. He was covered in sweat, his heart racing. As the dream started to recede he realized he was in his own bed, back aboard Enterprise. The weight holding him was Trip, who was gripping him tightly from behind, trying to calm him.

"It's ok, darlin, it was just a dream..." Trip murmured in his ear. But Malcolm's stomach clenched. What had happened on the Vulcan ship been no dream, even if the reality hadn't ended quite the same way. In fact, in some ways it had been worse. Malcolm's body slackened and he began to shake uncontrollably as memories washed over him.

"Malcolm," Trip started, obviously disturbed. He reached over the palmed the lights up enough to see the other man.

Malcolm turned and uncharacteristically buried his face against Trip's neck, tears welling in his eyes. Trip was still for a moment, then he settled them onto the bed, his hands running over Malcolm's back, whispering comfortingly, waiting.

Grief and self-loathing tore through Malcolm as he squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to stop the crying and the shaking, hating himself for falling apart like this. Gulping, he muttered to himself. Trip caught the words "my fault."

Malcolm felt the strong arms tighten around him, almost cutting off his air.

"It was not your fault, Mal. You did everything you could to salvage the situation. You got the away team back, and in time to save T'Pol."

The sound of the name made Malcolm jerk. The image of T'Pol's face as she cut him in his dream was clearly imprinted on his memory. He pulled away from Trip. "I killed over 100 people today, Trip. What's to salvage from that?"

"They were dead already, Mal," Trip told him. "Phlox said there was no way to save any of them, and you know that."

"If I hadn't made a mistake, we wouldn't have had to destroy the ship."

"You don't know that for sure."

They both paused, Malcolm not convinced by Trip's protests. He had been sure he was doing what T'Pol had said to do, but it had been wrong. T'Pol had been very clear on that score. He had fucked up and there was no getting around that.

He was startled out of his misery by warm hands touching his face, wiping away the traces of his tears. Trip looked at him in the dim light, his voice low and gentle. "Would you have saved them if you could?"

Malcolm bit his lip, looking at his lover in silence. They both knew the answer to that question.

"You saved everyone on that ship who could be saved," Trip continued. "And what happened was probably some small mercy for those people."

Malcolm relaxed slightly, allowing Trip to bring him back down onto the bed. His head rested in the hollow of the engineer's chest, cheek against the soft t-shirt. They both were quiet for a moment, Trip's hands idly caressing Malcolm's head and shoulders. "Do you want to talk about the dream?"

Despite himself, Malcolm's lips twitched. Trip evidently felt the movement. "What?"

"Sorry, this is just a bit of a role reversal for us."

Trip exhaled a slight chuckle. Malcolm could imagine the wry expression on the other man's face. "I told you it was like a bad horror movie over there, complete with flickering lights. I was surrounded. Maybe they were getting even with me for blowing their ship into dust."

Trip squeezed his shoulder in warning.

Malcolm sighed. "T'Pol was there, with them. She..." he swallowed, unwilling to tell Trip exactly what happened. T'Pol had helped Trip when everyone was starting to despair for him. The two of them were becoming better friends. It was hard enough trying not to feel envious that their Vulcan stoic was able to help Trip when his own lover couldn't, but the bottom line was that Trip needed T'Pol. He couldn't risk bringing any kind of alienation between them. Trip's hands stopped moving. Malcolm knew he was waiting for an explanation. "She helped them kill me." It wasn't entirely a lie, but hopefully enough of the truth.

"Just a dream, Mal." A hand ruffled through his hair, Trip's fingers gently massaging behind Malcolm's ears. Malcolm snuggled closer. The sound of Trip's heartbeat against his ear and the solid, living warmth of his lover's body were making the agony of the dream start to fade.

Trip drew in a deep breath. "I wonder...maybe this will disturb your admiration of her 'bum'?"

Malcolm chuckled. "Possibly."

Trip couldn't see his face darken. Malcolm doubted he'd be able to look Subcommander T'Pol in the eye for some time. The visceral memory of the knife cutting into his own flesh would haunt him, along with the faces of the people he'd left to die. The people he had killed.

And even lying secure in Trip's arms, Malcolm felt he deserved no better.


End file.
